Would You Like Me To Kill Him For You?
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: Everything in italic belongs to The Andorian Incident. This has been written for a Ponn Farr challenge issued by Archer's and Endeavor. Thanks to Kat for her beta talents.


Title: Would you like me to kill him for you 

Fandom: Enterprise  
Summary: Pon Farr story

Pairing: A/T  
Rating: PG17

Author: Yes!

Flaming: NO ;o)  
Archive: if you ask for this story to be archived on your site I will probably say yes but please ask!

Disclaimer: Trek ain't mine. What a shame… Just playing.

Author's Note: everything in italic belongs to "The Andorian Incident". This has been written for a challenge issued by Archer's and Endeavor. Thanks to Kat for her for her beta talents.

Would you like me to kill him for you 

© Xeen june 2003

"_Would you like me to kill him for you_?" said the ethereal voice. She almost blinked but resisted the temptation.

The flame was dancing in her eyes and designing a complicated pattern on her moist skin.

No.

She would not surrender to the call. It was too soon. She had been told once that some Vulcan females were to face madness when it was their time for Pon Farr. The mating cycle as Humans would name it. How ironic. She was light years away from the nearest Vulcan outpost and entering Pon Farr way ahead of her time. Nevertheless, she would not be part of those statistics. She would not allow it. She could not afford that luxury.

She was a Vulcan officer, on an alien ship, in a mission of guidance. She was the observer and intended to stay that way. Or die. Eventually, she could bypass the procedures and take off from launch bay during any night shift with a shuttle. Even drifting to death alone in the galactic void was far more preferable to the shame of being exposed.

The pain.

Again.

The pain twisted her full lips and her teeth showed in the dim light of the meditation candle. She let a deep sigh out. Focus. That was the master word. Stay focused.

She tried the ancient mantra You are the grain in the universe, the universe leads to the galaxy, and the galaxy is infinite…

Bullshit!

She threw the candle on the wall and the wax splashed all over the robe she had intended to wear for the meeting with the Legarians.

"_Would you like me to kill him for you_?" came the haunting voice again.

She closed her eyes in the darkened room to force herself to oblivion. She would not stand one more minute the sight of those lunatic stars and clusters one could watch through the porthole.

This was irrational.

There was no Vulcan male in the immediate vicinity. No hope of male arms and strength to meet her heated body.

Water.

She was in great need of water.

Tumbling and staggering, she started her way to the bathroom, eyes closed and jaws clenched.

She felt the bitter taste of her blood when she bit the sweet inside of her cheeks.

Pain.

The friendly pain.

She had been living with it for almost two weeks now and deep inside herself, she knew that she would not succeed in taming the beast inside. This was a lost battle.

She ripped her clothes off and crawled into the tub to let the fresh water cool her down.

"Sub-commander?"

"_Would you like me to kill him for you_?"

"Sub-commander, are you all right?"

Through the haze, T'Pol heard the reassuring voice of Jonathan Archer. She clasped the edge of the tub and took a deep breath.

"_I've heard about your mating rituals._"

"I am quite all right, captain. May I ask why you are in my quarters?"

Archer stopped at the hearing of her distorted voice. She was on the verge of collapsing. Phlox had been right, or he was lucky in having put two and two together. T'Pol was sicker that he had thought from the physician's babbling. "I let myself in because you have not been responding to your com for several hours, T'Pol. Is there something I can help you with?"

"_I've heard about your mating rituals…_"

"You should leave immediately," she snarled, exhilarated by the voice in the next room. "I will be ready in a minute."

"Ready for what?" The captain not only sounded nearer but also embarrassed.

"Aren't we scheduled to meet with the Legarians?"

"I took care of that part with Hoshi. You've been missing your shift and did not join us down there. I'm just back from the planet. Dr Phlox was under the impression that I could help you with some personal matter. You know we can talk, T'Pol. Don't you?"

"With Hoshi?" Her voice trailed off. "What did that arrogant doctor exactly tell you." She snarled back at him.

The water dripping stopped and Archer heard her exiting the tub. He stepped back, trying to put some space between him and the bathroom. "Dr Phlox had no need to tell me anything." He said bluntly, giving a try of his well-oiled bluffing technique on his 2IC. After all, that was not actually a lie per se. Phlox would never have agreed on disclosing his patient's records. He cheerfully stated the sub-commander might be in urgent need of his help.

"… _that Vulcan females force the men to fight each other to the death..._"

"I just thought I'd drop by to make sure everything was ok. I am aware that you strongly advised against meeting with the Legarians without knowing about all the proper protocols, but, thanks to you, I learned my lesson well with the Kreetassans." He was aware of making unusual small talk, but Phlox had warned him. Even the frailer Vulcan female was definitely much stronger that any Human male. So much for his male chauvinism, he thought.

"Please, excuse me captain. I was out of line. You should leave," she insisted from the bathroom, "I will be on the bridge shortly." Her voice was unsettled and husky.

"I can wait."

"_Would you like me to kill someone for you_…" The unnerving voice echoed in her head.

Teeth gritted, she uttered in a very low voice. "You don't understand captain. I have encountered unexpected difficulties with my _arie'mnu_ lately. I need a moment to myself to.."

"Arie'mnu?"

"To master my emotions."

"Oh… I see. Er… Actually I don't. You are the only person I know even among your people who can perfectly master one's emotion among a ship full of irrational Humans."

A silence followed his poor attempt at humour. Then a swift silhouette reached him. He felt her cool hand on his neck and he felt dizzy.

"I could kill you before you know it," she said flatly.

"_ Would you like me to kill him…_"

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, her hands on her ears, falling on her knees. "Please, leave me alone. I… don't want to hurt you…" She stayed there, swaying, chanting words in Vulcan, tears rolling on her face.

He knelt down and placed the hypospray on her neck, exactly as Phlox had instructed him before he came over. She stopped swaying and fell in his arms. "Archer to sickbay!"

Archer watched her struggle against the restraints on the biobed and fought back the irrational urge to set her free.

The doctor had categorically refused to go into specifics regarding T'Pol's disease. He had put him in the position to help him instead, ignoring what exact purpose he was eventually serving. However, he trusted Phlox and the doctor had never proved him wrong… so far, he mentally added still watching T'Pol lost in the agony of the fever. He was ready to give Phlox' s word credit that she was in no immediate danger and to wait another six hours to make up his mind about that special treatment Phlox has been gloating about around the ship for weeks.

After all, he saved Porthos' life when the little beagle was already two paws in the fore of dog's heaven.

"Quite a miracle those Vulcans still exist," the doctor enthused.

The captain barely flinched under the verbal assault.

"Considering partial data I retrieved from the Vulcan medical data base, their mating ritual is doomed to fail in two attempts out of three. Consider the odds captain!" said Phlox extending his arms as to reach out to the distant walls. "They should be history for a long time but their unprecedented longevity seems to prevent the fall of their race. Quite amazing how nature…"

Archer was overwhelmed by Phlox' small talk but he knew better than shut him up. At the moment, he was mesmerized by T'Pol's logical approach at making the restraints loose. Even with her running fever and the painkillers given profusely by the good doctor, she kept an amazing strength. Quite animal indeed. He felt a sudden rush of blood going through his body and turned back to the doctor with embarrassment.

"… in the equivalent period of time. What do you think?" Phlox asked expectantly.

"Err…"

"It is what I think, but what would be your opinion, Captain Archer?" the doctor cheered him on with his weird smile. He could smell the slight changes in Archer's scent. Fascinating, he thought. Was T'Pol's syndrome inducing the adequate response to the chosen mate? It would be logical even if an improbable response from Archer should be expected.

The captain made his best to elude the question with a shrug and a face. "Hmm. I will have to think it over before I can give you an appropriate answer, doc. Reproduction on Vulcan was never my strong class in college. When do you think she will be fit back for duty?"

"It is too early to tell," said the Denobulan with an even larger smile, "but, reasonably, you can count on her Vulcan resistance to make it through this ordeal in no time!" He was not mistaken, sniffing innocently. Archer 's body was responding to the display of Vulcan pheromones. Humans would never cease to amaze him.

"Good," Archer said without moving a finger, his eyes back to T'Pol's body swaying under the light cover. "I will check back on her in a few hours then."

"Perfect. We shall wait for you… then."

There took place an awkward silence that the talkative Phlox made no effort in disturbing.

"I need to get some sleep," Archer finally trailed. "I could use a good night sleep," he added pointlessly after a pause, shifting indecisively his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes still riveted on her bed.

"I wish I could sleep away my duties!" Phlox exclaimed, watching the two of them carefully.

How interesting! As he had theorized, if a virus originally triggered the Pon Farr, it seemed that exposure to certain pheromones naturally tended to induce it as well. The captain and the sub-commander had been in close contact for the past several days after they met with the Legarians. They performed several return flights together to the surface in order to settle the ceremony, which was due yesterday and spent a considerable amount of time together in the captain's ready room to finalize the treaty between Legaria and Earth.

He had no doubt that she entered a crucial cycle when Archer left the ship ahead of schedule with Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato to implement a last minute protocol. She must have felt as if she was left alone. The physician's conclusion was that she had experimented immediate withdrawal, which triggered a chain reaction that unbalanced the ratio of her hormonal production. Too bad he could not write a paper on the subject or simply present the Denobulan Academy of Medicine with a poster on that matter. But Denobulans were not interested in alien physiology and he was probably the only Denobulan exo-physician known to the entire galaxy.

His guess was that the sub-commander was away from Archer long enough to feel the urge of challenging other males aboard Enterprise. She had had no trouble in turning Lt Garcia and Ensign Pavlovitch against each other and leading them to fight over her. They already were competing on a regular basis in engineering since Enterprise left the docking bay. She had put her Vulcan spell of both of them and Phlox had to assign them back to their quarters for 48 hours to heal their ego bruises. After she made a point at demonstrating her personal skills in using what she called a 'bat'leth' to perform a very complicated martial combat, fencing her way to the galley, she fell into catatonic shock and retreated to her quarters, opposing no resistance to another treatment he imposed on her.

Fortunately, when Archer returned to the ship, he was under the strain of one of those headaches he was familiar with and Phlox hinted him to T'Pol's quarters. The hormonal treatment he implemented after she was exposed to the virus seemed to be less effective as time went by… or maybe it was and she was merely following in advance the normal path of her race. He still had that to determine and was not content with the results he had retrieved from the biobed since Archer carried her back to sickbay three hours earlier. If the sub-commander was going to go through Pon Farr, the mating cycle of Vulcans, and if she was part of the few females to suffer from severe raise of her hormonal levels, there was little that he could do in terms of traditional medicine.

From whatever he could assume from the Vulcan date base and from T'Pol's prior assessments, mating was the only way to get her alive through the cycle and there was no Vulcan onboard. Phlox stepped aside, considering with an expert eye the body language that Archer was candidly displaying. The captain seemed to fall apart. He had not moved nor responded to any question for the last half hour. Pon Farr was acting on him. The doctor knew from that nearly fatal night in sickbay for poor Porthos, that Archer had built strong feelings for his Vulcan first officer even if he was fighting them on a daily basis. He could sense the pain and despair that Archer was going through watching T'Pol lost in the hallucinations of the cycle. Though the captain was not yet conscious that he was the key to her cure.

"Why don't you stick around? I will be monitoring the sub-commander and feeding the menagerie if you need me." Phlox's voice burst out in sickbay, shattering the magic. "Choose the one you're more comfortable with," he added, showing Archer to the biobeds around. "But first of all, I would like to ask you to give me a hand. Those Vulcans can be treacherous and swift. I don't want to be exposed to any inconsiderate risks." With that he approached T'Pol with a hypospray. "Just make sure she won't turn her head," he said, leaning toward the fragile form.

A hand sprung from under the cover and Phlox fell to the ground without a word, letting the hypospray escape him. She took it and applied it to his neck, jumping out of bed in a single motion. She retrieved the doctor even before he touched ground and put him gently on the biobed in her place, fastening the restraints that once had prevented her from moving away.

Archer was watching the scene as in slow motion, numb and intoxicated by her scent.

She was standing before him, half naked, a fierce look in her eyes, her lips pursed in an odd smile. She came closer and he felt her warm breath on his neck. All he could do was blink.

What the heck was wrong with him? He could not even move an arm or attempt to react to what he was witnessing. Maybe Phlox was mistaken and the disease was contagious to Humans. He could not suppress the urge to touch her and his arms finally raised to take her closer to his body. He heard the sickbay doors hiss open and Trip's voice trailing as he walked his way in, obviously looking for the doctor. "I'm 'avin' trouble sleepin' again doc…"

A snarl escaped from T'Pol's throat and she crouched, hiding in Archer's shadow.

"Hi? Anybody there? Is that you Capt'n?"

"Yes, I am here," Archer spoke out, letting his hands fall on the Vulcan's shivering shoulders. "I'm afraid doctor Phlox is not here at the moment."

"Capt'n? What's wrong?" the commander asked pulling the blind open. He saw the snarling Vulcan and the silent warning in the look of his superior. "Well," he stepped back. "Maybe I could pick a better time…"

"You do that Trip." Archer said hoarsely. "And make sure that Lieutenant Reed assists you."

"Aye aye sir…"

T'Pol pushed Archer aside and practically stunned Trip when she jumped at him. He mumbled a protest before blacking out under the Vulcan nerve pinch.

Archer rushed toward the com. She was in his way before he could reach it.

"I would strongly advise you against spreading the word to the security teams, Jonathan. Don't you want to take advantage of a Vulcan on the loose before setting that beautiful ship of yours on fire?" she said dryly pinning him to the wall.

"Speaking of fire…"

"Don't tease me captain," she stated, almost regaining her usual cold composure. "Vulcan females are undoubtedly stronger than any human male. I do not want to hurt you. I need you to accomplish the ritual for me."

"The ritual?" he said, trying to reach the com.

"The Pon Farr. The Vulcan mating ritual."

Lieutenant Anita Martinez was rapping at the battle station, shaking gently her head to match the tempo. From his own station, Ensign Laurel King who was facing her from the communication station could hear the tune she was humming… which was nice considering Enterprise was orbiting in the middle of her artificial night around a planet he would never set foot on. It was surreal to be at the com of the first and only warp 5 ship in the Earth fleet in the middle of the so-called night with no immediate danger around. From his point of view, if you'd ask him what was all that fuss about the attenuate light and all? That the crew was well taken care of and all? Useless, waste of time. He did not sign for that in the first place.

He wanted to seek out new life and new civilisations and boldly go, blabla bla.

Anyway.

Anita was the kindest crewmate and a beautiful girl. As he watched her sing to herself, he tried to picture her dancing the mambo on Risa in a very different attire. He was proud to be part of this crew, but he was not against some action, after the last boring weeks circling around that planet. All of a sudden, he put his hand on his earpiece and immediately went to alert mode. "Did you hear that?" he said louder than he intended, startling Atkinson at the helm. He began to press and shift the commands in front of him making the whole panel twinkle and blink.

"Hear what?" lieutenant Atkinson asked. He was the replacement to Travis Mayweather on shift B and currently "daydreaming" at the earthlight of Legaria. As short and pale as Mayweather was slim and dark, Joe Atkinson was a typical product of the Jupiter colonies.

"That was just a glitch if you ask me." He pressed some buttons and relaxed back on his seat. "Take advantage of the view instead of searching for trouble."

"That was no glitch," King protested.

"Since when exactly do you suffer from the Sato syndrome?" teased him Martinez from the battle station.

"Look who's talking!" King exclaimed. "Last time we spoke, you were aiming at no less than becoming the perfect mix between Cochrane and Reed, only female!"

Martinez frowned and took a look at her own station. "Wait a minute, you're right, that's not a glitch! Someone just opened the launch bay doors…"

"That cannot be. It would see on my control panels…" trailed Atkinson who was now busy checking. "Everything seems closed to me. It's probably just a broken…"

"And what would that be?" asked King, pointing to the viewscreen. "A kite? Some model you guys built on your spare time?"

"Martinez to security. Security alert, I repeat – this is a security alert. Someone just took a shuttle out of launch bay. I repeat – Security alert, this is not a drill."

"Shouldn't we wake up Mr Reed or the captain?"

"I'm surprised that Reed ain't already on the bridge, if you follow my drift," Atkinson nodded.

As an answer, the doors to the turbolift hissed open and Reed was springing on the bridge, hair dishevelled, in his sweat pants and navy blue t-shirt, spitting questions. "What makes you go to Security Alert, lieutenant?" he asked, all regs and protocol despite the late hour and his somewhat neglected looks.

"It appears that a shuttle was stolen from the launch bay, Sir."

"Did you make any attempt to grab it back?" His eyes were riveted on the shuttle which was heading to the planet and disappearing in its lower atmosphere. "Magnify!" he snapped at the helmsman. It was too late to bring the grappler on line. And bringing Enterprise any nearer to the planet would risk to igniting the atmosphere.

Martinez went white and a meaningful silence echoed to Reed's question.

"Lieutenant? Are you with me?"

"No sir, err… I mean yes sir, I mean that was real sudden and we… I mean I…"

"We were debating whether it was a structural malfunction of the com station when we saw the shuttle on the viewscreen, sir," interrupted Atkinson to the rescue of his crewmate.

"And what was your response to this shuttle being stolen from Enterprise?"

"That was when you entered the bridge, sir."

"I understand you put the blame on me Mr Atkinson?" said Reed in an exasperate tone.

Bloody drills! They spent hours going through the same drills to face any possible situation and now a shuttle disappeared for launch bay without anyone doing anything about it! He pushed Martinez aside and took his place, checking the controls and mumbling to himself. In his heart of hearts, the armoury officer was still praying for an incredible malfunction even if he knew he was being unrealistic. "Did you check for any passengers Mr King? Any bio-signs?"

"I detected two, sir," said King, eager to make it up to him and help his crewmate in the process. "One Vulcan and one human."

Reed looked up to King and began to relax. Maybe it was only the sub-commander and the captain going down to the planet to make the last adjustments before the morrow ceremony.

"Maybe Sub-Commander T'Pol took someone down to check if everything were in pristine order… did you hail the shuttle?"

"Yes sir. Whoever they are, sir, they aren't responding."

"Did you try to reach the captain?"

"Sir, it is 03:45 in the morning," said King.

"Go back to your duties, I will go and talk to the captain myself," said Reed, springing back to the turbolift. "I will see the three of you in the morning. We have some more work to do on these drills it seems."

Charles Tucker III was seated on a bed in sickbay and he was not in a good mood. "I shawd 'ave seen it comin'," he trailed. "Never trust a Vulcan. I've got the 'ead the size of a rott'n pumpkin!"

"I fail to understand why your headache would be worse if the pumpkin were rotten, commander," said Reed. "Did the captain instruct you to do anything in particular?"

"The Capt'n was too busy fightin' that lady tiger. She jump'd at me, I swear, she was fierce, Malcom! She was fierce…" He shook his head.

The Denobulan stood up, massaging his wrists free from the restraints.

"Commander Tucker is right. There is nothing he could have done, should he have been warned."

"What do you mean, doctor?" asked Reed. "I thought that the sub-commander was purged with that virus you both contracted." Thinking back of that day he'd had to shoot the Vulcan, he shivered.

"She was, I can assure you that much," cheered Phlox. "The rest is patient-doctor confidentiality."

"Ya mean that she infected the capt'n?"

"There is not much I can tell you except that there are both in great danger," the doctor added.

"Is that suppos'd to make me feel any better?"

"It is not, commander, and I suggest that you retrieve that shuttle and its passengers as soon as possible."

"How soon?" asked Reed, already on his way out.

"The sooner the better Lieutenant Reed, that is a matter of life and death," said Phlox in a concerned voice. "I take it that you know where they landed?"

"We were unable to trace their trail to the surface and Ensign Sato cannot isolate their bio-signs either," confessed Reed. "We are still at it."

"Keep y'ur shawt on lewtenant, you'll find a way to bring 'm back!"

"Ouch! I don't want to be a cry-baby, but if you intend to treat me like that all the way to these mountains, I won't be of any use to you. We're here to serve a purpose, remember?" Archer grinned. On his face were trails of dirt and blood and his left eye was almost closed from the swelling of a prior wound. "Do you plan to kill us both from thirst and exhaustion after having crashed us and destroyed that shuttle?" He stumbled on a hidden root and almost fell. His kneecap cracked and his moaned from the violent pain. T'Pol glanced at him and pulled harder on the rope. "At least, if you only could set my hands free while we're walking…"

She stopped and rushed barely a few inches from him, hissing words in Vulcan, her head raised to his. Her eyes were sparkling and she was glistening from the sweat and the fever.

"You will come with me Human!"

"I don't dispute that," said Archer, "but maybe we could do that little hike on a friendly basis, don't you think?"

She said something else in Vulcan and turned her back on him, pulling harder on the rope. He resisted and only succeeded in falling on his knees. He cried out and bit his upper lip.

"I won't go anywhere. T'Pol, I understand that there is something very wrong with you. Don't you see I am your friend?"

She went back to him and she looked even more primitive than before. "You will come with me or I will kill you."

"You should as well kill me right now. On the spot. I'm not moving."

"You have to engage in katelaya, komihn!"

"I am sorry T'Pol, but without the translator we left in the shuttle, I can't understand you."

"You will mate, Human!"

Archer was glad he still could reach her, even if she did not respond to his pacifying words. Maybe she was not entirely lost to reasoning. "Can you tell my name, T'Pol?" he tried.

"You are Archer. I need you." She fell on her knees, facing him. Her face was losing composure and she showed her teeth, eyes half closed, breathing rapidly. "I don't have much time left."

"T'Pol! We have all the time in the world," he exclaimed. "Why don't you want to explain what is going on? Are you sick? Is it the virus you caught when I was away?"

"You don't understand." She was staring at him. She never blinked and almost stopped breathing, slowly calming down.

"Try me."

"I'm dying Jonathan."

The bridge of the Enterprise was silent.

Trip was seated on the captain's chair, shifting unconsciously from one side to another, playing with the controls under his hand. Reed was busy checking any progress from his away teams while Hoshi kept scanning the surface for the sub-commander's bio-signs. Human bio-signs were too close to Legarians to be accounted for and searching for the captain's bio-signs would have been a galactic waste of time.

They exchanged another worried look and Trip sighed for the umpteenth time of that endless shift. He felt guilty keeping Hoshi busy with those scans but she was their best chance to find the fugitives. She had insisted on trying and had been scanning at her station for the last 48 hours straight. She was even paler than her usual pale complexion and pink circles were showing under her tired eyes.

Her hand clenched expectantly on the earpiece, then she nodded, frowning and biting her lip with disappointment.

Trip sighed again. The wait was killing him. He had run several routine checks on the engines, driving the crew crazy each time he had popped up down in engineering. Being the one in charge for the time the captain was not on board was not his cup of tea but due to his rank, he had no other choice than to assume the position.

Not that he could not take responsibility for most of what was going on… on a daily basis.

He knew that he would be the one to eventually call the search off and recall the searching parties. Soon enough, he would have to report to Starfleet Command and inform them that the two officers were missing in action. He had no doubt that the Vulcan High Command would be too happy to have their mission of exploration cancelled once they got back to Earth.

He could not help but feel uncomfortable with the present course of events. There was no way T'Pol and Archer could have disappeared on foot unexpectedly on a planet twice as small as Earth. Reed's people were unable to retrieve any information from the shuttle pod, which the Legarians had found the day before. It had obviously crashed down quite violently and was set on fire afterwards. He had no doubt that T'Pol did that on purpose. Every team had been searching the perimeter ever since with no more success than the locals.

Reed cursed between his teeth.

"A problem, lewtenant?" Tucker jumped at him.

"No, sir. Nothing that I cannot handle properly, commander. Permission to leave the bridge, sir."

"And why would ya wanna do that?" Tucker trailed.

"One of my team is back and stuck in decon and I would like to debrief them asap, with your permission, sir."

"Go ahead, permission granted. Hey! Malcolm! Keep me posted, will ya?" Trip sighed – again. He waited for the armoury officer to leave the bridge and turned to Hoshi, springing up from the captain's chair at the same time. "Tell me ya got somethin' Hoshi, anythin' will do."

She nodded. "Sorry, nothing yet. Don't worry, I will keep searching till I find them."

"Worried? Worried has been my middle name for three days…"

Hoshi smiled. "The metalloid alloy on that planet is jamming our sensors, what I get is mostly static," she apologized.

"Don't tell me. That damn' ore was the reason we're stuck 'ere in the first place. I say leave that ore alone and get back to our mission."

"The Legarians are hailing us sir."

"What do they expect us to do? Stop looking for our people? All they've done for the last three days was sit on their hands and keep our landing parties in the dark…."

"They helped us locate the shuttle pod," she said.

"Yup. That much. Ok, let's do it….." He straightened and raised his chin to the viewscreen.

"On screen… Good morning Consul Q'oum'l" he cast a glance to Hoshi and she mouthed silently 'perfect' and rewarded him with a thumb up.

"We think that your captain and his first officer probably took refuge in one of the caves on our Northern Riff."

"It's 'bout time you display some intelligence Consul," Trip snapped back.

Hoshi rolled her eyes. He took a deep breath. "We are grateful for all the help you can provide us, Consul. May I ask where we can find them?"

"As I said, they are on our Northern Riff."

Trip made a useless attempt at calming down but eventually burst out. "Would you care to be more specific?"

"I already informed your crew that those caves cannot be accessed at this time of the season. There are currently snow storms in that area which prevent us from giving you assistance."

"Ya think we could land a shuttle up there?"

"I doubt it, commander. The scenery from our capital city has proven to be quite magnificent though."

"Ya bet." Trip cocked his head, desperately trying to keep his cool for the sake of the rescue mission. "Could you give us a hint? A map or somethin'?"

"All relevant data is currently being transmitted to your main computer, commander. I insist that these caves cannot be reached for the next couple of weeks. Unless you are ready to endanger more members of your crew."

"How do you explain that we couldn't trace their bio-signs to these caves of yours?" Tucker insinuated.

"There are only two answers to your question, commander, Captain Archer and Sub-Commander T'Pol are either hidden in the caves or dead," stated Q'oum'l matter-of-factly.

"What do ya mean dead?"

The transmission was cut abruptly and Trip punched the armchair in frustration. "Damn' Legarians! What now?"

"We're experiencing an ion storm. Every transmission to the planet is impossible, sir. I retrieved the data before we lost contact."

"Very good. How come did we not trace them in those caves?" he asked again.

"Maybe they didn't take refuge there and we have to assume that Consul Q'oum'l was right," said Hoshi.

"Ya mean dead? Unacceptable," Trip growled.

"On the other hand, if they are prisoners from the storms in the caves, assuming they contain a fair amount of that alloy…"

"Tucker to Reed! Report immediately to the bridge!"

Archer woke up to the smell of food. Three small animals, the size of Earth squirrels, were roasting on a fire. He did not spot T'Pol and pulled on his restraints to let some blood get to his hands. Both his arms and legs were numb from having been tied too tight and from the wounds and scratches he had got on his way up the mountain.

He recalled that they almost died from cold and exhaustion in the snowstorm. They were lucky enough to stumble on this convenient refuge. The inside looked like a giant geode. A kaleidoscopic greenish light was coming from the rocks. That made him feel like Superman caught in a Kryptonite cage. He was so weak from their forced walk, first through the jungle then up those cliffs, that he had trouble to merely staying awake.

His feelings for T'Pol had grown deeper during this three-day trek. Watching her fight her inner demons and the urge to take advantage of him to fulfil her needs was even more painful than the wounds. She had tried to explain what she called the Pon Farr. She was so advanced in the process that she barely acknowledge she was using a mix of Vulcan and English. He was not certain that his understanding of her present condition was accurate. As far as he understood it, she was to mate with her adun in order to stop the fire that was consuming her. If she failed, she would eventually die.

As far as he knew, she had broken her engagement to that adun whose name he could not remember, at an early time in their mission. There was no turning back for Vulcans. Was that the punishment to betraying ancient rituals? He was unsure of his exact role in that somehow primitive pattern. He kept turning in his head over and over again what she had confessed.

He had never heard or witnessed that Pon Farr though he had been living around Vulcans all his life. Vulcans, they would never cease to puzzle him.

That Pon Farr should be quite something since even Phlox's magical menagerie had proven to be hopeless. What was it that Phlox was attempting to achieve by hinting him to his first officer quarters?

That he could figure out. He smiled. Inter species exchange. The good doctor probably thought it was worth to give it a try. It was a cure as good as any, since he did find one that worked in the long run.

The doctor knew all along that he had fallen for her a long time ago. Even if he was far from keen on her presence on board at the beginning of that mission, she had grown on him eventually to become irresistible lately. But for the moment, he would have given even Enterprise to get a bite of those roasted rats. He moaned in despair and let himself roll nearer to the fire. Exhausted, he fell rudely on his back on the uneven ground and lost consciousness again.

T'Pol's smell and the metallic taste of her blood on his lips awoke him. She was all over him, her nose in his neck, sniffing his hair, hands running on his broken ribs. She was whispering in Vulcan, eyes closed. When her tongue started tracing his ear, he could not help but moan in frustration. With his hands still tied behind his back, he could not embrace her. That was driving him crazy. His useless attempt at taking her lips under his failed when she tilted her head. Her maddened eyes met his and she was away, her back to the wall, hands clasping hard on the rocks to induce a greater pain that the one she was already going through.

Even in the scarce light, he could see that the elven woman had turned into a dreadful evil figure. Her skin was glimmering under the greenish light and Archer felt a compulsive urge to touch her and make love to her. He struggled to get free from the rope. He only succeeded in cutting deeper into his already bleeding wrists. "T'Pol, from the howling wind outside, I take it we're stuck together in here. This time is as good as any to give me the explanation you owe me. What do you want from me? Why did you have to take me along with you?" he begged. He wanted to hear her say it. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her. "Don't you trust me any more?"

She did not move.

"I'm ready to provide you with anything you need." Even to his ears, it sounded pathetic.

She dashed back to him and put a knife to his throat. "I am not", she stated fiercely. "I will not jeopardise further your career and your mission." She was merely an inch from his face.

"I will feed you now."

Matter-of-factly, she lifted him as if he were a child and got him seated, his back to the wall. She gave up flexing his knees and ripped off his pant leg instead. "Is it broken?" she asked, her fingers running on his thigh.

"I don't think so but I will need your assistance to get back to the city when this storm is over."

"I am not going back." She raised her hand and placed her fingers lightly in an odd angle, on his jaw and forehead. He tried to back away and knocked his head on the rock. She looked at him intensely. "You still want me," she said bluntly, letting her arm drop to her knees.

"Who wouldn't!" he snapped back with anger.

She did not blink.

"I am sorry T'Pol, that was out of line," he said immediately. That would be Trip's line, he thought to himself, hiding an involuntary chuckle. The whole situation was getting on his nerves.

"I will not permit it," she said, standing up and reaching for the food. Disgust written all over her face, she began to tear apart the first squirrel. To Jon's utmost surprise, she took a large bite, chewing on the juicy meat, grease dripping down her chin to her breast. Then she held him the rest. His hesitation made her snarl and he took a bite before her knife could reach to his throat. They shared the rest and she fed him before leaving him alone again. He called her back but she was not willing to answer or maybe did not hear him calling. He was already feeling a lot better. He knew that feasting on three rodents would not help him recover but at least he could manage to think straight. Obviously, both the Legarians and Enterprise failed to find them. To escape T'Pol's custody, was out of the question.

He could not figure out why she had rejected him after having dragged him - and carried him in the end, all the way up to that cave. It was obvious that she needed him.The only logical conclusion was that he was wrong. He had probably misunderstood her explanations when he was still in shock after the crash of the shuttle. She did not need him. She had left him in the jungle unconscious after she had broken his ribs and almost strangled him in that fierce embrace he was starting to recollect. When she had been back, she had seemed calmer but had kept her distance almost all the way up the mountains. He knew that she had to carry him for the last yards, maybe fifty, maybe more. And now, he would have to watch her die unless he could find a way to prevent it. Then the obvious facts struck him. She was not looking for the one-night stand that any crewman on Enterprise could have been happy to give her. She had to kidnap him to make sure she would not become intimate by accident with someone she had not chosen. She did not want him to have sex with her out of pity to put her out of her misery. She did not want to rape him either. That would explain her distant mood. She wanted him to be part of the equation. To be that adun, that word she has been repeating like a mantra for the last three days. To save her, he had to prove to her that he loved her and to be worthy of her love.

"Ya know as well as I know that the Capt'n or T'Pol would be our best shot to circumnavigate those cliffs! Travis may be a genius when it comes to come across the galaxy and find the next fancy bar, but piloting in a planet atmosphere's proven to be quite a diff'rent matter!"

"I could not agree more, commander," nodded Reed, with a frown on his face. "He is the best pilot we can put our hands on right now and we are running out of option."

The two officers were in Archer's ready room and the air was filled with electricity. They had been discussing that plan since Consul G'oum'l's last transmission.

Trip was eager for some action.

Reed was not. His memories from visiting his cousins' as a child, in the middle of North West Highlands winter, were quite vivid. He knew that even the most advanced shuttle wouldn't resist an ice storm. Not to mention the knowledge of piloting in such circumstances, he doubted Mayweather could master. "I don't want to challenge your judgement, commander, but launching an armada of shuttles to retrieve our senior officers with those weather reports? I think not."

"Why not? These shuttles can fly to Vulcan and back!"

"There's a great difference between being exposed to bad weather and to the void. Don't you forget either that those caves are mainly composed of tritanatium. We could possibly face a failure in our navigating system and scanners."

"Ya're right," sighed Trip, both his hands on the metal beam of the ready room. He gritted his teeth. "We never shawd 'ave trusted that Vulcan sub-commander in the first place."

"You're being unfair commander. Permission to speak freely?"

"Be my guest," said Tucker, collapsing in the chair next to the desk, in an effort to stay calm. He wanted to be back in engineering, not to resolve matters of life and death on behalf of his friend, abducted by a sexually driven insane Vulcan. He had heard it through the grapevine and from what he had witnessed in sickbay he was not far from drawing the same conclusion.

Those conceited perfect Vulcans! "Scratch the paint and the seams fall apart," he thought.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

Did he say it aloud? No way… "I'm listening Malcolm, I'd be grateful to hear any proposition."

"Very well. We have no reason to assume that the sub-commander or the captain were injured in the crash," he began, hands behind his back, straight as on parade. Trip started to fidget but waved him to carry on. "If they had been injured, we would have found evidence."

"All right, all right, keep it on!"

"We have been trusting Sub-Commander T'Pol with our lives for almost two years now. We must assume that in any medical condition she would not turn her back on the captain or harm him."

Come on, Stinky! Trip grinned mentally. Everyone aboard knows that you have a crush on T'Pol! "I can assume that much," Tucker trailed, "can't you come to the point, lewtenant?"

"That was my point sir."

"Are ya kiddin' me!"

"I think that since neither the captain nor the sub-commandant are in immediate danger, we must postpone our rescue missions. We have received complete assurance from the Legarians that there are no predatory animals in that vicinity. I will send a shuttle as soon as the snowstorms recede. There is no need to rush down there and look for them… sir."

Trip sprang from his chair and came close to Reed, his face a few inches from his. The armoury officer did not flinch. Trip took several deep breaths and finally gave it up.

"Ya're right," he sighed again. "So we're supposed to sit on our hands and wait?"

"I wouldn't have put it that way sir, but, yes, that would be the best course of action for the time being. I could use the extra spare time to calibrating the sensors…."

"Yup. Guess you could, Malcolm."

"Something bothering you sir? Are you ready for the ceremony? Hoshi was commenting on the…"

"I guess you could, Malcolm," insisted Tucker. "Dismissed."

"Aye aye, sir."

Archer had been blacking in and out for hours. He could not recall when he had his last decent meal. It seemed like eons ago and he had lost track of time in the dark cave. There were not even the slightest live embers left. He had to assume that T'Pol had gone poaching again and he began to stretch his arms to ease the pain in his left shoulder. He was free. Some time during that day –or night-, she had come back and cut his restraints. He massaged his wounded wrists, frowning at the deep cuts he inflicted upon himself to struggle free. He put his hands on the ground and pushed to get up. To his surprise, he placed his right hand on a knife she had left here for him to find. "Good," he muttered to himself. "First thing first, let's revive that fire."

He gave up standing up and crawled next to the hearth, breathing hard and growling. He would have to find something to eat and drink as soon as possible. His body was giving up on him. He must have been lying there tied up longer than he thought. He dug in the hearth with the knife and saw a faint light. He started blowing on it, putting together some twigs he had found on the way. He was rewarded by a light flame which appeared suddenly, growing thin and blue. Then he spotted her. A small pile of dark material, crumbled to the wall. Her head was at an odd angle, her skin a weird shade of green, her eyes wide open.

His heart stopped inside his chest and he moved as quickly as he could to the wall, his sore knee crumbling in the dirt. He bit his lower lip and frowned, failing to see whether she was still breathing or not. He stopped, less that a foot from her and swiftly leaned forward. She didn't flinch when he passed his hands twice before her eyes and he pressed reluctantly on her pulse point. Nothing.

He came even closer, searching frantically for a pulse in the artery. He let drop his hand on his knee when he came to the conclusion that there was no life left. He began swinging back and fro in slow motion, his chin deep in his chest, hands clenched on his thighs.

Why?

If only he had not tried to work on the fire first. Now it was too late. "Don't be a fool," he said hoarsely, "pull yourself together. You'd never have found her in the dark…"

He lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking gently. T'Pol was still warm and supple. In a foolish attempt to bring her back to life, he took her into a tight embrace and pressed her against him, oblivious of the broken ribs, of the dislocated kneecap and his bleeding wrists. He started rocking her slightly, aware that he was deluding himself with some Prince Charming fantasies.

All he knew was that she was gone before he never had the chance to tell him that he loved her.

Crap.

He never had the guts to tell her anything in the first place! Eyes stinging with holding back his tears, he pressed her even closer, unable to repress his emotions any longer. He began speaking out what was hidden deep in his soul and heart and had been for almost the last two years, tears rolling down his cheeks while he was choking on the words. He was slowly coming to the realisation that he had been thinking for the whole time that she would always be around because of the life expectancy of her race.

He would not have imagined that he would ever outlive her, mainly on that clear day around Legaria, when his only concern was that Starfleet uniforms wouldn't match the colour of the Legarian flag. She should have died old or in battle, not burned down by that Pon Farr he was still uncertain about. He was sobbing now, still rocking her, his chin in her hair. He should have worried instead of trying to achieve a brilliant compromise. If only if could go back in time and make her his.

That Andorian was right on P'Jem. "_Would you like me to kill someone for you_?" He had stepped up to defend himself as well as T'Pol at that time. Maybe he should have gone further and spoke out his mind to her. The blue guy seemed to know a lot about Vulcan traditions.

"_I've heard about your mating rituals._"

"… _that Vulcan females force the men to fight each other to the death..._"

"_Would you like me to kill someone for you_…"

How could he remember those words so accurately? His mind brushed over the memories of that night back in the temple in P'Jem, her warm body against his during the night they were prisoners from Shran.

Sure, he was ready to fight over her. Ten times, a thousand times, an eternity.

He had let his prejudice and his pride come across his love for T'Pol. And now she had died because of his carelessness. He looked down at her quiet face, pushing aside the streaks of dishevelled hair and kissed her lips gently. She blinked and her eyes riveted on his. "You came," she said.

"You will have to slap me as hard as you can."

"Excuse me!" He rolled his eyes and almost let her drop to the ground. She was alive and asking to be chastised?

"Slap me. Hard," she rasped, begging.

"You sure? Why would I do that!""

Her tone was compelling. Archer sat her against the wall and took a deep breath. One minute she was dead, the other she wanted him to beat her? What was it supposed to mean? Was that some kind of Vulcan masochism? Sexual images flashed in his head and he closed his eyes.

Don't you go there. He was compulsively attracted to her but that was no scoop. Right now, he was mesmerized by her looks. She was so different from the hieratic Vulcan sub-commander he was working with on board Enterprise on a daily basis for the last 23 months.

She might as well be someone he had never met before.

"Do it!" she shouted panting.

He complied, slapping her harder and harder, making her head bounce against the wall. Then her arm sprang up and she took hold of his wrist, stopping him with no particular effort.

"That will do," she stated, her cheeks a darker green, fierce eyes glittering in the dark.

"Do what?" Archer answered in a high-pitched voice. He sounded desperate. He was sweaty and aroused. He was on the verge of losing it. He could not decide whether he was still delusional from being exhausted or fully awake. "You owe me an explanation, T'Pol."

She arched one eyebrow. "I was engaged in a hakaya wh'ltri, the healing deep meditation."

"I believed you were dead."

"It is obvious that you were mistaken," she stated with no obvious concern for his grief.

"Why the slapping?" He was slowly regaining some composure and anger was primarily the only reaction he was able to display. He was angry with her, because she was alive. He was angry with himself because of the guilt that was building because of the beating he had had to inflict on her.

"That is the only way to get out of the trance without a risk to nervous synaptic connexions," she explained.

"To get beaten?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You did not," she stated dismissively. She stood up, suddenly back to her usual self.

Her attitude was intriguing. She was standing in the cave, with no sign of the illness Phlox had claimed she contracted. Had the fever gone for good?

He stood up and stared, eager to find a clue from the body language he had learned to decipher.

She faced him and took her phase pistol out of her holster. He stepped away from her, waving his hands in front of him. She held it out to him instead. "I want you to have it. I don't have much time left before the Pon Farr takes me again." He opened his mouth but she silenced him immediately. "Every seven years, every adult Vulcan goes through the mating cycle," she said, "and I am ahead of my time. You will go back down to the capital city. I will remain here until this is over."

"What about the dying part?"

"As I said, I will remain in the caves. When this is over, I hope that you will retrieve my body and arrange to send it back to Vulcan in order for my family to perform the rituals."

"Err… retrieve your body? You seem quite healthy to me and I will take you back with me to the city, even if I fail to understand why you took us both up there."

"I apologize captain. I was lead on that path by the fever and by the urge to mate. Fortunately, I took no offensive action against you… that I can remember," she added after a pause, her tone uncertain. She blinked. "If I did, I am sorry, sir."

"Wait, wait, wait!"

He stepped closer and she stepped back, her eyes wide opened. "I cannot permit that you touch me because I sense a bond between us that I probably initiated against your will. I apologize again, captain."

"T'Pol, that's enough," he shouted, getting closer again. She did not move even when he was so close to her she could feel his body heat. She kept staring at him, her mouth quivering.

"I will take you back with me to Enterprise even if I have to stun you." He held out his hand to her shoulder.

"I strongly advise against it captain. I can maintain a fragile balance in my emotions because of the hakaya wh'ltri, but if you touch me, you will trigger the Pon Farr again."

"If there's a bond between us, you can feel that I want you no harm T'Pol," he pleaded in a gentle voice, every trace of anger gone. "Please let me help."

"I will not permit it. I want you to receive my katra," she said stubbornly.

"I will receive anything you want if you let me take you back."

"You don't understand captain. I will give it to you for you may take it back to Vulcan."

"Your katra?"

"That is my spirit, captain. Thought I am unsure if there is any precedent, you are the only chance I have to transmit it to my people."

"And how would you plan to do that?"

"Through a mind-meld captain. You have no worry. I will not transmit the Pan'ar syndrome. Humans seem to be immune to it."

"OK. Let's call it the day T'Pol. I am under the impression that you ask me to get your soul back to Vulcan along with your corpse…"

"That is quite all right."

"You're talking suicide?"

"I am talking Pon Farr," she hissed, gradually losing control. She put her hands behind her back and looked him in the eyes, defying him.

"What if I refuse?"

"I will have to take my life and my katra will be lost."

"T'Pol!" In his voice was more of a warning. Adrenalin was giving him the needed surge to go through the ordeal but he wouldn't waste time either. She knew it. He reached out to her and took her by the shoulders. She shivered and raised her chin. A violent stream of uncontrolled images, desires and primal feelings flew over him. He let go of her in awe. She merely flinched. He took a breath and nodded. "When this Pon Farr thing is over would you even remember what happened?"

"I doubt it." Her body was trembling but she was keeping a steady voice.

"So what the hell?" he shouted, taking her in his arms. "Use me!"

She heard the desperation in his voice and felt the turmoil that was growing inside him. She saw his love, deeply rooted in his erratic mind. "I cannot," she said, resisting his embrace.

"Why?" he whispered to her ears.

"Because YOU will remember."

"T'Pol don't be ridiculous," Archer said. The sound of his voice was covered by the sound of the mountain collapsing over their heads.

Trip looked right ahead of him, as stiff as Reed, who was standing to his left. His collar was too tight and his shoes were killing him. He glanced towards Hoshi. She was stunning. She had chosen to wear a traditional kimono for the occasion and had done marvels with her hair and Cutler's help. The silk was a delicate shade of beige and the paradise birds were so vividly represented he had to resist the urge to hold out his hand and touch them.

"Commander, if you please," said Consul Q'oum'l with an engaging smile.

Trip faked a smile and faced the antique microphone. He cleared his throat and proceeded with delivering the speech written for Jonathan Archer the best he could. Nodding to the audience, he was going back between Hoshi and the armoury officer when a sudden tremor followed by a deep rumble stopped him.

Many in the audience turned to the away mountain and people started to shout and to leave the plaza.

"I'm afraid we will have to postpone the ceremony again, commander."

"What do you mean Consul?" asked Reed, with an upset voice.

"Mount Aq'artee seems to be awake. You have to leave the premises as soon as possible."

"Is that Mount Akawtee in the vicinity of the caves?" worried Trip.

"Yes it is. You should take your shuttle and get back to your ship."

"What about our people?" asked Reed, stepping in.

"There is nothing we can do," the Consul said with a bow. "You must leave at once, the capital city will be evacuated."

Commander Charles Tucker III was pacing the bridge, biting his nails, his parade uniform soiled and crumpled on the captain's chair.

The unusual sight of Hoshi in her extraordinary kimono had distracted him for the last two hours. Now he was eager to get some answers and all she was doing was to nod every ten seconds in discontent.

"Sorry commander. I am still unable to get a lock on them. I guess that the eruption added to the presence of that ore is making it even more impossible to detect their bio-signs."

"For chrissakes! We can't just leave 'em out there!" Trip hissed, looking at the viewscreen in complete disarray.

"Maybe I could get Enterprise closer to the ridge," Mayweather suggested.

"I'm not that comfortable with that idea ensign. What if we ignite their atmosphere?"

"That's a one percent risk, commander, even a lesser risk. Enterprise was designed with the capacity to land on Earth and their upper atmosphere is quite similar to ours. I mean to Earth's atmosphere."

"What do you think Malcolm?"

"I take it as an acceptable risk, commander. We can take Enterprise nearer to those mountains without jeopardizing the safety of the planet or the ship. Suffice to say we should stay away from eruption range. The navigation system of a shuttle wouldn't resist and would be likely to fail us should we try to land it on the cliff. I would consider using the transporter as the very last option, sir. Anyway, if Ensign Sato can't locate then, we won't be able to beam them back either."

"Ok," Trip sat in the captain's chair, fierce determination written on his face. "Take us down there, Mr. Mayweather, straight and steady. Mr. Reed, get ready to retrieve the captain and the sub-commander by any means you can come up with."

T'Pol awoke to find herself trapped under rocks and debris, pressed against Archer's chest. She tried to lift the rock and it moved. Good, with proper discipline, she thought, she would succeed in freeing herself and the captain. She realised her physiological status was almost back to normal.

Archer coughed under her and she tried to see whether he had been injured or not, but the cave was totally dark. She focused on getting free from their coffin of stones and managed to sit and to release the pressure of the biggest stone on her leg. She knew it was broken. She could feel the sharp pain radiating from the wound. "Are you all right captain? Captain Archer?"

"I'm ok," replied Archer, his voice only a whisper. "I would appreciate that you would not rest on my chest though." With that, he choked and spat some blood.

She held out her hand to wipe out the warm and sticky liquid on his chin and on top of his head. One rib had probably broken through his lung, she analysed. She took the phase pistol from his hand and shot in all four directions directly at the cave walls. Immediately, the singular greenish light started to glow enough to let her see what she was up to.

Archer's face was entirely covered with blood and his eyes were uncertain and dull.

She ripped her sleeve to shred it into strips and began to wrap his head with the bandage.

"I was a perfect gentleman T'Pol," he joked in a hoarse voice, grabbing her at the waist while she was trying to stop the bleeding. "You seem pretty efficient T'Pol… something you would like to share?"

"I think that the collapse triggered by the eruption of the volcano released a gas or a toxin. I feel much better. I do not sense the effect of the Pon Farr any longer."

"Glad to hear that," he said, trying to sit. He could barely breathe or speak. Stress or hunger could not be accounted for his sudden weakness. "I think that it had a different effect on me…" he trailed, on the verge of blacking out again. "To bad you did not fall for my irresistible charm earlier," he added again before losing consciousness.

T'Pol stood up, dragging him to her shoulder and proceeded to the direction of the entrance despite her injured leg. If he was right and suffering from the effects of that volcanic gas, she had to find a safer place for him to stay. She progressed slowly, phasering her way out towards the rumour of the wind. She had to stop to cover her face from the ashes which were blown inside the cave by the storm and, panting, finally made it to the open air.

It was brisk and frozen. She gently put down Archer and took a good look around them. The cliff had fallen to the valley on its eastern side and the snow was covered with ashes and flakes of fire. She stood there, perfectly still, softly sniffing the air.

There was no way she could manage to get down to the safety of the valley with Archer unconscious. Even as a Vulcan, she knew she would not have the strength to carry him all the way down in that turmoil of ice and fire with a broken leg.

The ground was shaking under her feet and she was almost deaf from the continuing rumble.

Then they were taken under a bright spotted light.

She raised her head to the sky. In the darkness of the ash rain, she saw the amber lights of the Enterprise hull flashing above. She heard the voice of the armoury officer, amplified to cover the storm. A moment later, they were secured by a rescue party. She let the crew bring them back to the ship in an improvised hammock.

Once her feet in the cargo bay, she took Archer back in her arms and jogged directly to sickbay.

"Did you get 'em Malcolm?" Trip's voice echoed in the opened cargo bay.

"We did."

"Are they safe?" said Trip impatiently. "I'm on my way."

"That won't be necessary, sir. It appears that the sub-commander won't let go of the captain."

"What do you mean?" asked a puzzled commander, his mind fighting against vivid erotic images of Jon and T'Pol. "She attacked ya?"

"No. She said something in Vulcan and apparently left for sickbay. Doctor Phlox reported to me only a minute ago."

"That's good. Why do you sound upset then Malcolm?"

"I was kind of picturing a different rescue, commander. She took away with the captain. She was carrying him."

"Ya're pullin' my leg, lewtenant!"

"Not this time commander."

Phlox turned around to face the Vulcan who was entering sickbay.

"What can I do for you, sub-commander?"

He let her display all kinds of un-Vulcan feelings at the sight of the empty bed. She pressed her lips to a thin line in disappointment and waited for the doctor to speak out. Cold blood Vulcans, he thought, grinning at her. "You'd be happy to learn that I returned the captain to his quarters with a mission of rest and sleep for the next seven days."

"Very good," she said, pretending not to be relieved. She relaxed and took a few steps to the microscope. "Did you manage to isolate the spores you retrieved from the captain's lungs?"

"Yes, indeed! Your intuition has proven to be quite exact, sub-commander."

"Vulcan prefer to favour logic over intuition," she stated with an inner smile, sticking her eyes to the lens.

"Anyway, you were right," the physician explained. "Those spores, though lethal to Humans, can very possibly shadow the effects of the Pon Farr on Vulcan physiology and help to ease or even suppress the symptoms in its early stage."

"That should be put to good use in deep space ships with restricted crew," she pointed out, her eyebrow merely arched. "That will be the source of intense debate at the Vulcan Medical Directorate."

"I second that," said the ever smiling doctor, waiting for T'Pol to get to the point.

"Will the captain recover fully from that exposure?" she finally asked, eyes locked on Phlox.

"More easily than from the wounds you inflicted upon him," he stated, leaning slightly towards her expectantly.

"I did not harm him when we were alone, doctor," she protested, raising her voice slightly.

"It is not something that you actually did on a conscious level, sub-commander."

"Vulcan do not let the unconscious reign over their behaviour, doctor."

"Even when they have already entered their mating cycle?" Phlox could have sworn he saw her blush. "Your only intent would be to mate, would it not? And yet you have repeatedly rejected him."

"Did the captain tell you that?"

"No, he didn't, but he dreamed out loud. That was quite enlightening."

"The bond exists," she said in a deep troubled voice. "I created it unwillingly. We did not mate. I would not have permitted it."

"Why not?"

"It is not of your concern, doctor."

"You are very wrong, sub-commander. Everything related to the health of this crew is my concern. Maybe the captain's health even more."

"I see."

"I take it that you understand what I mean… on an unconscious level?"

The captain was spread all over his bed, Porthos lying next to him. The small beagle was ecstatic, his deep brown eyes shining with adoration. Archer tried to throw the ball onto the opposite wall and his cry of pain covered the sound of the water polo game. Porthos immediately went alert, licking his face and hands and walking on his chest, eliciting another growl. "Give me a rest, Porthos, will you, boy? I'm not going anywhere!"

The chime of his door stopped him from playing further with the dog, who sat back on the bed with expectation. Archer looked at the pet. The dog knew who was behind the door.

"Come in!"

"May I?" said T'Pol, on the doorstep. "Are you not resting?"

"Not right now T'Pol, I'm kinda tired of resting. Come on in, you're not interrupting anything. I'm glad you came." An awkward silence followed his cheerful address. The shouts and splashes filled the room. "Dr Phlox informed me that you are back to your… usual self," he tried.

"Indeed."

"What is it then that I can do for you T'Pol?" he said, accentuating the double entendre.

Her skin went a darker green and she looked at her hands, fascinated by her PADD.

"I have some results you might be interested in, captain," she said, holding it out to him. "Dr Phlox succeeded in identifying the toxins responsible for your illness."

"Very well!"

Archer set the PADD aside on his bed next to Porthos who immediately proceeded to sniff it profusely. "Why don't you sit T'Pol? We have to talk and I haven't had the chance to see you since we have been back from the surface. I was told that you resumed your post on the bridge…"

"In the absence of the captain, it was the logical move."

"You were not that needed there, T'Pol, you could have taken it easy and stayed a few more days in sickbay."

"That was not necessary," she said, clasping her hands behind her back.

Archer looked down and sighed. "Enterprise is going to stay in orbit for the next couple of weeks to study the volcano. What could possibly go wrong? Please sit T'Pol, looking up to you is killing my back."

"That is what can possibly go wrong that worried me captain," she replied, sitting immediately on the edge of a chair. She had had enough with one lecture from the ship's physician.

He hid a smile when he heard her quoting him. He took a deep breath and sat on his bed to face her.

"Ok. Let's start the whole thing all over again," he said, waving at her. "Good evening, T'Pol! I'm glad you came."

She watched him intensely.

"I missed you T'Pol. We have to talk."

"There is not much to discuss, captain."

"That's not your call to say sub-commander. I, on the contrary, think there is much to discuss." She remained dead silent and stared on. Sighing deeply, he leant closer towards her.

"You cannot deny the bond between us, T'Pol. I can hear your thoughts when you are on the bridge or your mind going adrift when you meditate."

"Can you?" she dashed to answer, eyes wide opened in shock. "I was not aware that Humans had telepathic abilities." She blinked and Archer saw her eyelashes beat her cheek in slow motion. Time to get rid of all that medication Phlox insisted that he take, he thought.

"Maybe, you should reconsider and change your mind. Humans are not opposed to embracing new cultures," he added with an enticing smile.

She swallowed, avoiding his gaze for the first time in weeks. "I came over to ask you to accompany me in a survey of the eruption. Dr Phlox greenlighted the idea and Mr Tucker believes there is no threat attached at taking a shuttle out now that the volcano is back to normal."

"Why?"

"Consul Q'Oum'l assured me that the sunsets are wonderful since the eruption."

"You want to take me out to see the sunset!"

"If I believe one of your most renowned painters, Joseph Turner1, sunsets have proven to be amazing after a tectonic event. When Iceland went through a great eruption cycle on account of the Laki fissure, during the late years of your eighteenth century, it changed drastically the colours and general aspects of the sunsets and accordingly many landscapes on that part of Earth. You cannot call Turner a liar. His work is said to be the semen to Impressionism."

"Wow! I had no idea that you knew our painters and climate from centuries ago."

"I have travelled in every region of your planet before settling down in the Vulcan Compound in Sausalito."

"I take it that you studied as well…"

She nodded.

"I'm impressed T'Pol. But you can ask me out on a date anytime without quoting Picasso or Einstein."

" Captain…"

"You mean… Err… I'm sorry T'Pol. I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I would like us to take the shuttle down to Legaria. I'll be happy to watch the sunsets with you."

She held her hand to him and slightly touched two of his fingers with hers. His jaw dropped.

"What was that?" he asked, blushing like a college boy.

"THAT, was a Vulcan kiss," she said, "Freshman, if you want to embrace other cultures, you have to be prepared to boldly go where no man has gone before. My place… 08:00 hours? I am confident that Dr Phlox would not advise against some healthy meditating activities."

FIN!

1 Turner is a pre-Impressionnist English painter


End file.
